


been a fool for lesser things

by youcallitwinter



Category: Korean Drama, 닥치고 꽃미남 밴드 | Shut Up Flower Boy Band
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-04 16:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1785877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcallitwinter/pseuds/youcallitwinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing him is a habit. Sometimes, she forgets, and then, in the middle of doing something else, she realizes there is an ache somewhere inside her and she's not hurt. And remembers again.</p><p>[kim ye-rim; ye-rim/hyun-soo, hae-ri] [oneshot]</p>
            </blockquote>





	been a fool for lesser things

He's distant as a rule.  
  
In her head, Ye-rim sometimes thinks, she has a list of  _Dos and Don'ts_ that come with being in love with Lee Hyun-soo. She doesn't use it often, she still says exactly how she feels when she feels it, but it's still in her head somewhere, at the back.  
  
Trigger point; this is how he leaves.  
  
Bang; you're dead.  
  


 

-

 

 

There is more static than there are words.  
  
(When he's abroad, the distance seems more...distant.)  
  
  
  
  
-

 

 

"I love you," she says, very soon, too soon, didn't your mother teach you not to run after the boys?  
  
The fork stops halfway to his mouth, "what?"  
  
"I think I love you," uncertainty she doesn't feel.  
  
"I love you," more firm, the whole truth.  
  
See, the thing is, she's never seen a good enough reason to hide her feelings. They don't go away if you do. She knows because she tried, once. And anyway, the worst that could happen is--  
  
The fork reaches his lips and crosses them, his eyes drift over to the side, taking in the other people, "the Japan tour starts tomorrow. I'll try and call. If I can."  
  
  
  
  
-

 

  
She doesn't realize how lonely being alone is till she's not anymore. And then is again. And then is not anymore. And then is again.  
  
Missing him is a habit. Sometimes, she forgets, and then, in the middle of doing something else, she realizes there is an ache somewhere inside her and she's not hurt. And remembers again.  
  
  
  
  
-

 

  
She's surprised by how specifically she misses Hyun-soo. When she opens her eyes during the recording session, and he isn't there,  just behind the wall of glass, looking back at her.  
  
"Your manager says 'your heart is not in it,'" she can almost see Hae-ri unnie making air-quotes from five feet away. There is no moment in time when her own heart isn't in her work, and Ye-rim feels...something. Possibly closest to envy.  
  
"My heart is far away." she smiles to take away the sting, and it does not feel foreign to her. "It's not with me. I don't think I should be penalized for its absence."  
  
Unnie turns another page, a thin file that is probably the entire weight of someone's future musical career. A few sheets of paper. But when Ye-rim reads music, it's still just a few sheets of paper. So maybe all there is to become, to be, is in those few sheets. It's odd, the thought, "it seems your interests have shifted to songwriting. Nobody would say that line unless they were trying to gauge the effect on an audience." 

For some reason, that makes her laugh.  
  
"You know you cannot date him, Ye-rim. It's bad for both your images."  
  
"Can I love him, though?" she is curious. She doesn't remember if she signed that away in the contract as well.  
  
Unnie looks up from the papers, and she's smiling, just a little bit, just enough for it all to be okay, "if you want."  
  
  
  
  
-

 

  
She writes it in big, bold letters on a page.  
  
MY HEART IS FAR AWAY.  
  
The page looks too empty, so she adds:  
  
_What if it decides to stay._  
  
There should be a "there" in there somewhere, she knows, what if it decides to stay  _there_. But then it doesn't sound as good. The third line she writes doesn't rhyme and the whole venture seems pointless.  
  
(She misses his call. It's an accident. She'd gone to get a better pen, because then, even if the words didn't rhyme, they'd look beautiful on the page, and she, she likes beautiful things. Hyun-soo does too. The lights attract him, she doesn't know why.

She calls back. 

He picks up.)

  
  
  
  
-

 

  
_(I think you're my muse._ she says, once.  
  
_no,_ he cuts, abruptly,  _I'm nobody's muse_.  
  
_okay,_ she says, and it is.)

 

 

-

 

 

Even after days, the effect is amateur, she knows. She knows because she's sung songs by the best songwriters in the business. She has sung Ryu's songs, and she is not dim enough to not get the difference.  
  
"But still," she tells him, "they didn't have to dismiss it off-hand, they could have tried the chords at least."  
  
"Always wasting time on the wrong things," he tells her, but his tone, it's different, it's...fuzzier around the edges, more blurred, softer. Or maybe that's the static.  
  
"I liked it," she says, truthfully, "I wrote a good song."  
  
"Modest," he mutters under his breath, then: "play it if you want."  
  
She has her old guitar in her hand, before she's had the time to register surprise that he asked at all.  
  
The chords are a mess, she realizes belatedly. She wasn't writing a song with specific music in mind, there's always a song in her head, and she'd just set her lines to someone else's chords.  _Badly._  
  
She stops playing midway, "that's it."  
  
He takes a deep breath, "that was--"  
  
"Awful," she says, and falls back on her bed.  
  
"Yeah," he says, in obvious relief, "yeah. Stick to the singing."  
  
She glares through the phone, he could have  _lied_. It was obviously bad, but he didn't have to  _say_ it.  
  
"I'm going," she says, and keeps the phone down first.  
  
It takes her a moment but-  _that was-_ the realization hits:he was gearing up to say something good. He would have lied. If she hadn't spoken the truth first, he would have lied. She doesn't know how she knows that, but she does.  
  
She throws off the covers, and picks up the sheet.  
  
   
  
  
-

 

  
"Okay, listen."  
  
He sighs, it sounds far away because he's so far away, but he's breathing right in her ear and she can almost make out the rise and fall of his chest, so it's somehow like being close as well, "you remember that thing I said about sticking to singing?"  
  
"No," she says, and launches into the song, strumming intermittently.  
  
"It's...better," he manages, reluctantly.  
  
"I know," she says. And smiles.  
  
  
  
  
-

 

  
"I miss you."  
  
She goes off-key. Terribly, " _what_?"  
  
"Just checking to see if you're actually singing for me, or you're singing and I accidentally happen to be on the other end."  
  
It's a whole sentence, spoken in haste, the words tumbling out, which is progress from the monosyllables.  
  
"You're driving me crazy with this one song, write something else, if you plan on continuing the torture." He's back to being-- not himself, she thinks, not himself  _exactly,_ but an image of himself. He is lots of things at once.  
  
_Drive me crazy, sometime._  
_Baby, I'm in for the ride._  
  
"Do you still love me," he asks next, and she can't figure if 'baby' is appropriate in the line or not, so she turns to his question instead.  
  
"Yes," she says, because, why lie.  
  
"You're persistent," he notes, with an inflection she hasn't yet encountered enough to be able to decipher.  
  
"You're far away," she replies.  
  
"I'm coming back."  
  
"I'm waiting," she says, "I'm waiting till I don't have to close my eyes for you to be next to me."  
  
He's silent for a moment, "you know, it's still plagiarism if you're stealing your own lines for a conversation."  
  
She laughs.  
  
  
  
  
-

 

  
(When she looks up, this one time, he's looking back at her, just beyond the glass wall.  
  
_I love you,_ she mouths.  
  
The worst that could happen is--  
  
nothing. There can be nothing worse than feeling and not saying it, and lying to him, but mostly, lying to _herself_ , as if she doesn't feel it. Because she  _does_. She  _does_ feel it.  
  
He's shaking his head, but he's smiling, and he's trying  _so hard_ not to-- she's read him enough to know that-- but he still is, so there's that.  
  
Her high note hits higher than usual. She has to start over, but that's okay.)


End file.
